


Night Terrors

by bothromeoandjuliet



Series: Spooky Times Jeronica Week (Wicked Jeronica) [2]
Category: Archie Comics, Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, And the whole dancing scene that accompanies it, Birthday Ball, Dancing, F/M, Forbidden Love, Temporary Character Death, basically I got way over inspired by the black dress from Anna Karenina
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2021-01-05 18:33:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21213173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bothromeoandjuliet/pseuds/bothromeoandjuliet
Summary: It's the night of Veronica Lodge's - daughter of the influential Hiram Lodge - birthday and he's thrown her a ball. But despite Veronica's outward appearance of excitement, something seems to be hiding beneath the surface-or behind the red velvet curtain.





	Night Terrors

**Author's Note:**

> Oneshot 2/7 for Spooky Times Jeronica Week! I've been reading Anna Karenina, so if the writing gets more and more pompous looking, that's why lol. The prompt is Monster Ball.
> 
> Comments are welcomed and greatly appreciated! <3<3<3

“Veronica? Veronica, darling, are you nearly ready? We don’t want to be late to our own ball after all.”

“Yes, Father, just one moment!” Veronica called, surveying herself in the looking glass.

The black fabric of her bodice pulled, dangerously tight, around her torso, then burst forth into a waterfall of tulle down to the floor, leaving her shoulders and back exposed, and her hair, which had been curled and then done-up—pulled completely away from her face—save for a few dark curls that insisted on clustering about her temples.

Another deep breath; a straightening of her gloves, and she left the room to join her father.

“Ah! My mija; truly I have been blessed to be your father.” taking her arm and leading the way to the ballroom where, doubtless, their guest had already begun to gather, “And I see that you are wearing your gift. You are pleased with it then?”

Veronica nodded, lifting her hand to finger the delicate pearls.

“Yes, Father. It is very beautiful; but you really shouldn’t have been so extravagant. I shall have other birthdays, you know.”

“But what else is a man to do on his only child’s eighteenth birthday, hmm? I could do no less—but we have arrived, and we must show our guests smiling faces. Open!” he commanded to the two footmen, who bowed and pulled the doors apart, exposing Veronica’s eyes to the brightly lit room.

The room sparkled, with candlelight glowing off every reflective surface that it could. All the guests were dressed brilliantly, the men with their dark suits or military uniforms, and the women in an array of wonderfully designed gowns, each more exquisite then the last.

‘But is he here?’ Veronica thought, her eyes desperately searching the crowd. Faces blurred together under her stare, all disappearing into a category labeled, “Not Him”.

“Mija,” came her father’s voice, and then, more insistently, “Mija.”

“What—yes?”

“You must forgive my daughter, Viscount. Doubtless, the splendor of the room will dazzle her much more then the conversation of two old men. Veronica, my dear, we shall bore you no longer; I see many a friendly face awaiting you, so be off with you.” releasing her arm and turning back to the viscount.

She stepped across the side of the room, nodding in acknowledgment to those who wished her a happy birthday, her eyes fixed upon the dancers that occupied the center of the room—stare locked on first one couple and then another—but nowhere, nowhere was the occupier of her thoughts to be seen.

“Ah, Veronica!” called a voice, breaking Veronica from her thoughts, and her stare from the dancers.

Bursting through the crowd in a cloud of pink tulle, came Betty, eyes sparkling and hair falling down in golden ringlets to her shoulders.

“Betty!” Veronica answered, smiling, then pulling Betty close and pressing her mouth close to Betty’s ear.

“Has he come? Is he here? Tell me—you must tell me, for I can bear no more suspense!”

“We do not know, we have not received a single word from him in the months since he left us.”

Veronica pulled away at her words, her face betraying her disappointment, and Betty pressed a sympathetic hand around Veronica’s own.

“Miss. Lodge, Veronica, you look an angel!”

Veronica turned to the speaker, forcing a smile over her face, and laughed, “What, an angel dressed all in black, Mr. St.Clair? Is that what your wicked lifestyle has taught you to believe?”

“No,” lifting her hand to his lips and pressing a kiss against it, “for your charge has been a good little boy and learned his lessons from the family prayerbook. But would you call me, Mr., still? Would you—now at eighteen—still forbid my Christian name to fall across those curving lips?”

“Nick then.” forcing another laugh and bidding Betty farewell with a nod, “And now we may reside on equal footing.”

“The most dangerous place to be—but the band has begun again. Won’t you dance with me, Veronica?” extending his hand to her.

Taking it, Veronica allowed him to lead her out onto the dance floor, and together they took their place at the top of the dance.

Bowing, three steps in one direction and then another, bowing again, hands crossing, turn, and then stepping down to the spot below you. Skirts flowed and ankles exposed themselves to the candlelight. The music dropped down to a quiet, playful beat.

Nick twirled her about—he was a wonderful dancer—and simpered. He had always simpered, but Veronica felt that all his overly complementary words were more of a trial to her tonight then they had ever been before.

She could see her father watching her off to the side; surrounded by his court of business acquaintances and members of the royal family—all and one inside her father’s silk-lined pocket. And there, just to her left, where both Lord and Lady Blossom. The siblings made a fine pair, him in black and her in scarlet, each step perfectly in time with each other. They were so close to her, Veronica could have reached out and brushed Lady Cheryl’s gloved hand with her own…But then Nick twirled her again; leaving both brother and sister whirling away into obscurity.

“Veronica, you know I love you, don’t you?” said Nick breathily into her ear.

Crossing hands, turning, stepping down. Veronica kept her eyes up, on the chandelier, on the ceiling, with it’s painted cupids and their heart shaped arrows.

“Of course I know, Nick.” music vaulting once more, it’s tempo increasing and with it the dancer’s steps, “Everyone loves me, it’s my birthday—they are left with no choice.”

“Ah, but Veronica, I loved you yesterday, and I will love you tomorrow. What do you say to that?”

“I say that you don’t love me. You love the idea of me, Nick, and that is a different thing entirely. Don’t you understand?”

There was Betty, stare pinned to her, dress swallowing up her companions. Bow and step.

“I understand that you refuse to answer me—but Veronica, don’t you love me?”

“Ask me again—later.” Veronica responded absently. She could have sworn that she had caught site of a pair of broad shoulders and red hair—just there by the orchestra.

“But when, Veronica, when shall I ask you?”

Yes—just there! He was coming through the dancers, towards them. Was he smiling? Veronica couldn’t tell, and Nick was twirling her again.

“Oh, I don’t know! Ask me…Ask me on your birthday Nicky, and I promise to kiss you very prettily.”

The song was ending, the players reaching for one last frantic crescendo…and then a heavy hand landed upon Nick’s shoulder.

“You don’t mind if I cut in, do you Mr. St.Clair?”

“But of course.” bowed Nick, releasing Veronica to Archie with a graciousness Veronica had not expected, “I will find you again later, Veronica—Miss. Lodge.”

The music began again, a gentler arrangement this time. She followed Archie’s lead, turning her head this way and that to take in any listening ears, then, looking up into Archie’s face with a calmness she did not feel, asked,

“Well, has he come then? Or did you leave him behind at your camp.” running her fingers up the grey sleeve of his military uniform.

“He is here, but hush! He comes without consent from either his parents or your own.”

“I know it, I know it! But he is here.”

“Yes."

“And he will see me?”

“He has come with only that view in mind—but only listen! Two dances from now you will be asked to dance by a man in a pale blue uniform. Be sure that you are near enough to your father for him to see the man’s face—and then, while you are dancing with him, the exchange will be made between the man and _him._”

“But my father—“ Veronica began, glancing to where her father stood.

“He is to be distracted. It has all been arranged, down to the last detail. But now, we must say nothing more, else we will cause suspicion.”

She nodded, swallowing down the remains of her nervous question, and glanced about as they continued the dance. Veronica could not see him, and yet he must be there; among the crowd, under the cupid’s arrows, watching her.

The song neared it’s conclusion, and, at Veronica’s request, Archie danced her in the direction of the refreshment table; disappearing from her side as soon as the final note had been played.

Selecting a glass of champagne, Veronica began the long walk to the opposite side the room where her father still stood.

The dancing continued, but Veronica did not watch them as she had before. What did it matter now—he would not be among them. She saw Nick, standing beneath one of the great arches, watching her as he spoke to some unknown young man. His dark eyes sparkled as they watched her, but Veronica merely tossed her head at him, setting the curls at her temple dancing.

“What, mija, tired already?” her father asked as she returned to his side.

“No, Father, I’m merely resting so I don’t overtire myself too early. I want to experience the whole night, you see.”

“Most prudent, most prudent.” taking a step closer to her and lowering his voice “And was that Nicklaus St.Clair that I saw you dancing with?”

“Yes, but he wasn’t saying anything very interesting. He’s acting very silly tonight—I think he has had too much champagne."

“Ah, but what else are we to expect from a rather silly young man?”

“Nothing whatsoever.”

The second dance had nearly ended. Veronica could see Betty and Archie, twirling together in a burst of pink and grey. Hands twisting, in, then out, then twisting again. The violin strayed, alone and unafraid, into the air, then ducked back into hiding with the rest of the instruments.

From the corner of her eye Veronica saw a pale blue uniform appear. A servant passed, bearing a tray, and Veronica disposed of her glass with shaking fingers. The song ended, the figure walked, directly across her father’s field of vision, and came up to her, hand extended.

“May I have the next dance, Miss. Lodge?” bowing to her.

She glanced to her father, and at his barely perceptible nod, bowed and took the young man’s hand; fighting to remain composed as he led her to the dance floor. Archie and Betty had disappeared and everyone who surrounded them was unfamiliar to her.

“Am I allowed to know your name, sir?”

“Mr. Fogarty, Miss Lodge.” he answered, looking away from her at the next moment and leading her out of their current set to one on the other side of the room.

“I really cannot thank you enough for this.” Veronica added.

Mr. Fogarty only grunted in reply, then said, “I would get ready to twirl if I were you, Miss. Lodge.”

“What do you—“

Veronica breath was cut off. Mr. Fogarty, had—was—spinning her, madly, around and around. Everything blurred in and out of focus, the floor tumbled beneath her feet, she could almost feel her feet sliding away beneath her, Mr. Fogarty had disappeared, Veronica was twirling, alone and afraid—and then a reassuring hand fell against her waist, steadying her, slowing Veronica back down to a speed that was more manageable.

“Veronica.”

“Oh, Forsythe!” gripping him tightly and looking up into his face “But can it truly be you?”

“Truly, my dearest. Or do you not feel me, real and solid under your fingers?”

“I do, but all day I have been in such agonies, I could barely hope—I can hardly trust my own senses, even now!”  
Forsythe laughed, and drew her closer.

“Then trust mine; if your own are so doubtful to you; for they have been in a frenzy since you first entered the room. But Veronica, you have been unwell?”

“No, not unwell, only…Only I’ve missed you so, and after you left I thought that you might remain true to your vow and that I would never see you again.”

“I had meant to stay away,” he admitted “but when I heard from Archie of this ball, and thought of him basking in the sunshine of your face instead of myself, I found that I could not bear the sacrifice any longer.”

The dancing continued, one, two, three, four steps and bow. Forsythe’s eyes burning across her face, and Veronica couldn’t seem to catch her breath.

“It’s strange; for when I thought of seeing you I kept imagining all the things I would say to you, but now that you are here I find myself at a complete lose for words.”

“I have something that I must say to you as well…Can you get away?”

“Where to?”

“Just to the outer hall, for one moment—no more then a moment—the dance is ending.”

“Take me then."

Forsythe, taking her hand in his, ushered Veronica away from the dancers; through the crowd; out into the dark and cool hallway, which, concealed as it was by a heavy red curtain, was perfectly empty.

“Veronica,” then, stooping and kissing her, “my dearest.”

“Yes—but you needed to speak with me.”

“So I must,” kissing her again, harder this time, “but what am I to do? Veronica, darling; dearest to my heart as you are, not even you can comprehend how I have struggled these past months. With a heart so entirely yours—and yet, can I ask this of you?”

“Ask what of me, Forsythe? I am not afraid.”

He broke from her, and cried, with his face turned away, “Ah, but I am. Afraid as many a man has been before, and will be in the future. Veronica, I know you love me as I love you and yet I feel as if I require some proof of it before I have the courage to take this final step.”

“Kiss me then,” Veronica murmured, taking his head in her hands and turning to face her “and in my kiss you shall find all the proof of love that you shall ever need.”

He kissed her, then, pulling away—his eyes filled with wonderment—sank to his knees before her, grasping both Veronica’s hands in his.

“I have come tonight, Veronica, not merely as a boy—who’s only wish is to devoir as much pleasure as he can—but as a man who has been desperately yearning fo the woman he loves, to ask you to forsake your father’s name and house and, leaving it, to take on me and mine and to love and be loved by me for the rest of our days.”

“Do you truly mean it?” Veronica asked blushing at the earnestness of his voice.

“Mean it? My darling, I would swear it on every living creature in the universe if it meant I could have you by my side.”

“Then I will surely be yours. But how? My father—“

“Our families cannot know until the deed is done and we cannot be torn apart. I have a carriage waiting outside and if you would dare to come away with me with only a cloak to cover you…”

“I do dare, I shall go at once!”

Veronica pulled her hands from him and went to the curtain, but before her hand had touched it Forsythe had followed her and, pressing her to the wall, kissed her.

“What have I done to be loved by such a woman as this?” he wondered aloud, holding her inside his arms “What in all my acts of triviality has made me worthy of her love?”

“It was being your own, sweet self.” Veronica said, brushing his hair from his face.

“Ah, yes. The sweet self who, at the beginning of our acquaintance, was wont to mare this face with tears, brought on by some harsh, pompous speech—incorrect and underserved.”

“Yes,” Veronica laughed “the very same.”

This speech overcame Forsythe, and he covered Veronica in kisses, leaving her blushing and breathless as she left the dark hallway behind.

She got to her room unobserved, found a cloak, hide it beneath her skirts, and then returned to the ballroom. She did not see anyone she knew, all the familiar faces had disappeared, and he was waiting for her.

“Forsythe?” Veronica whispered as she wrapped the cloak about her shoulders—blinking at the sudden darkness.

He came at her call, rushing forward from the end of the hallway, reaching out to her—but almost as instantly a second figure appeared behind him, catching him by the arm and holding a dagger to his throat.

“Forsythe!” she called, running to him, only for an arm to catch her about the waist and her father’s voice to murmur into her ear,

“Close your eyes, Veronica.”

“No, Father, no—you can’t!”

But it was too late. The knife slide, serpent like, alone the pale skin of Forsythe’s neck, leaving in it’s wake a trail of blood which flowed down, staining the wool of his uniform. Her father released her and Veronica ran forward, crashing onto her knees and cradling her lover’s crumpled body in her arms, screaming his name.

“Forsythe, no—no, please, not him, not Jughead—“

* * *

Veronica gasped as she jerked awake, clutching at her sheets—sheets that clung to her damp skin.

The room was dark, excluding the pale moonlight and the yellow streak of light that came in from under the door. Everything around her was familiar; the dresser, the vanity, the picture frames on the walls. All was as it had been when Veronica had fallen asleep.

She stood up with shaking legs, and, going to the door, opened it and walked out into the hallway and then to the study, pushing the unlatched door open completely before walking inside.

He looked up from his computer as she entered and smiled at her.

“I thought you’d fallen asleep already.”

“I did,” walking around the desk and reaching for his hand “but then I had a bad dream and woke up.”

Jughead looked up at her, at first in surprise, and then with worry.

“A nightmare?”

“Yes, but it doesn’t matter. Won’t you come to bed?”

“And you’ve been crying.” lifting a hand to brush across a cheek that Veronica hadn’t realized was damp until that moment “Do you want to tell me about it?”

“No, not tonight. Tonight I just want you to come to bed and hold me.”

“Alright then, Princess.” closing his computer and snapping off the lamp “Let’s go to bed.”


End file.
